


Your Song Next to Mine

by lover_of_blue_roses



Series: Singing Soulmate [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Not beta'd we die like men, Smile, Soulmates, a little bit of swearing, awkward dating, early like 1968, singing Soulmates, so much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 07:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: When your soulmate sings, it makes you sing too. Join a new band called Smile and woah your voice just harmonizes so well with the guitarist, wonder what's up with that?





	1. In which they and their instruments meet. All this chemistry and they haven't even sang together yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the OG RT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story does have a plot I just didn't get to it yet. This is really my first time writing romance and I wanted to give them what they deserve.
> 
> Yeah so this isn't beta'd so I change tense from present to pass, just read this drunk ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Roger had been little, he had been in a choir. It hadn't been very interesting. There wasn't really much time to socialise. The songs they had sung had been boring, bland and repetitive. But choir had given him a little bit of vocal training. Roger had always had a nice singing voice which was good because he wanted to be a rockstar. It was also good because Roger wanted to do it often.

He enjoyed singing but more than that, he wanted his soulmate to know he was doing alright and still kicking. Roger was sure he had a soulmate for their songs would make him sing as with all soulmates. Roger was pleased to note that they were English speaking or at least sang only songs in the English language. Aside from language, the only thing Roger could discern from their musical choice was that they like dixieland and jazz. Which was old people music. Roger hoped his soulmate wasn't that much older than him.

[ Brian wasn't that much older than Roger he just had an old soul.]

Music was becoming more and more popular throughout the 60's. It was really amazing how much people like Elvis and the Beatles had made music such a big part of culture. Some argued it was good for finding one's soulmate, all this music and all this singing. Others argued it made it so much worse because everyone knew the lyrics to these viral songs and they were so infections as to compel people to join in the singing without being soulmates.

Roger couldn't imagine, even if it meant he never meet his soulmate, that a world with more music was in any way worse off. Music was his life and in his soul. He wasn't just content to sing but also to play the drums. He went off to London supposedly for school but really he wanted to be in a big city with a thriving music scene. He didn't know what he wanted, expect perhaps everything, but he knew he didn't just want to part of the rat race with some 9-5 boring job.

So he scouted around from interesting things and was always on the lookout for something... more. Les Brown called him up one Tuesday. He'd read a flyer on the Imperial notice board, it was a band audition calling for a drummer. There wasn't really any doubt in Roger's mind that he was going to get it, that the band were going to want him. The real consideration was whether or not they were going to be good enough for Roger. He didn't want to join some lame people with mediocre talent.

Les set up a time and place with them as Roger's phone was currently not working; it may have to do with him failing to pay his phone bill on time three months in a row, who knows. Roger put on something snazzy and fashion forward to go and meet up with them leaving his dirty blonde hair down and free.

The audition room was cramped and Roger could tell the acoustics compare to a large theatre room would be shit. A lanky student was there sitting a chair scribbling the kind of math that made Roger happy he was in a softer science. He looked up and waved him over, "Hi, are you Roger? Here for the audition? I spoke with your friend on the phone. I'm Brian the guitarist. Tim, our bassist, lead vocalist, can't be here today."

Brian seemed very proper. He sat with his ankles crossed. He had tightly cut curly brown hair and a pointy nose. He wore a sweater vest over a button up. The only rock and roll thing about him was that the top two buttons were left open.

"Yeah, sure I'm Roger," He stuck out his hand and they shook. One boy was dressed very glam Diba while the other was studious student. "I'll just-" Roger pointed over his shoulder to the drum kit.

"Oh, yes, please. Feel free to get started right away." When Brian smiled he had sharp little canines that peaked out, it was very cute. He put away his maths notebook in the satchel at his feet and pulled out a smaller, well worn journal. It must have been for taking notes for Tim because then Brian looked up and gave Roger his full attention, staring at him with soft hazel brown eyes.

Roger felt some pressure but he knew how good he was and how hard he worked, and he was gonna blow this pretty boy's mind. He sat down on the stool and the first order of business was to raise it up to a proper height. He fiddle to make sure the stool was centered enough. He extended his arms, drum sticks in hand to ensure he could reach everywhere comfortably.

Once the stool was placed to his liking he started tuning the drums. They sounded terrible and harshly used. The small room was damping and swallowing the sound. The opposite of the loud explosive noises the kit was capable of. Starting with the floor tom, he did a steady drum roll around the rim one-handed, his other hand on the lugs. He turned them, tightening the tension rods as needed until he got that crisp noise he was looking for. He did a little military roll to check it was all good and looked up as he moved on to the mid tom.

Brian had fallen back into his chair, mouth agape. He looked like a puppet with the strings cut as though he had melted in the chair, his limbs limpy at his sides. His pen had fallen and rested at his feet. The journal too had been abandoned. Brian looked at him with awe and wonder.

Roger looked behind him to see if perhaps angel wings hadn't spurted from his back. "Alright there mate?" Roger had reason to be confident in his abilities but he hadn't even started.

"I- What are you doing?"

Roger wished there was some way of vocalizing '???' and instead has to settle for the obvious, "Tuning the kit? Why, it look like I'm laying wallpaper from down there?"

"You can tune drums?"

Again '???' would have been useful. "...Yes?" It wasn't some magical power. Hell it wasn't even like tuning a piano which could not be done by the pianist but by someone specialized in that.

Brian stood up, which showed him to be proportioned with long thin legs. He walked over until he was looming over the drum kit and Roger, "Can I see?" He was apparently amazed.

'Guitarist.' Roger thought but did not say, 'They only seem to hear guitars and know how guitars work, you'd think this was rocket science.'

Roger carefully continued his meticulous work. Brian seemed more interested in the fact that drums were being tuned than how. When Roger was done he looked up and an excited Brian finally backed up and gestured for him to start, still starry eyed. Roger could get use to being looked at like that.

So Roger did what Roger does best and let all hell break loose. Unlike some other instruments, drumming was very active. It rose your heart rate, your blood pressure and made you break out into a sweat. It was liberating and it made Roger feel like he was soaring, untouchable. When he finally did stop it was to joyful clapping of Brian. "That was wonderful! Absolutely amazing! And so unique. I've never- I hadn't heard anything like that ever in my life. The way you make your hit-hat talk, could you-?"

Roger gave him a little more.

"Woah, yeah. That's really something."

"It's because I hit the snare and the hit-hat at the same time, gives it emphasis and makes the sound louder and bolder," Roger wasn't even sure if he was being listened to. "It's technique Brian. You don't just hit them."

Brian didn't make it clear if he had processed anything that had just been said. Instead he jumped up and went to strap on his guitar. "I was thinking I'm a Boy from the Who." He turned to stand in front of and facing the drum kit. His guitar... was odd. Normally guitars showed the grain of the wood they were made from, but this one had a thick opaque brown-red paint on it.

Regardless of what it looked like, as soon as Brian hit the chords it lit up. It had a raw throaty sound to it and was a little bit too quiet. Roger tried not to play over it with the drums. The two sounds blended together and sounded- Wow! Like flour and eggs, the two halves were greater as a whole. And boy was this cake going to be delicious.

It sounded electric and energizing. The song came to an end and all that could be heard was the harsh breathing of Roger.

"Alright then. Sounds good to me. Tim will still have to hear you play, I can't promise you a spot in the band but after that audition-" The praise made Roger sit up straighter, it was hard not to let such a fine comment make him feel big-headed.

"And you too. That was really something. Your guitar, man you can really get her to purr."

Brian turned his face away in modesty. "Thanks. Me and - My dad and I built it."

"No shit?"

"Yes well we couldn't really actually af-" Brian cut himself off and bites his lip.

The sentence didn't need to be finished for Roger to understand. The working poor and the lower middle class were normal passing but that doesn't mean they don't go without. It happened every other month that Michael Taylor would drink away his wages and leave the rest of them without anything. It might have been in his right but that didn't change the facts that he was suppose to be the provider. "Why don't we go grab a bite to eat?" Roger said awkwardly changing the subject.

"I'd love to," Brian replied with a small smile. Pleased that his comment was overlooked and unmentioned. Brian packed up his school bag and his guitar for them to head out.

While Brian had a light, seasonally-appropriate jacket, Roger had been unable to find one that matched his rockstar outfit. It's always a little chilly in London and partly covered in sweat that clings unpleasantly, thus Roger is cold. The silence was starting to grow a little stilted. "I don't normally hang around South Kensington but I've heard of this little deli that's quite nice."

"Oh, you don't attend Imperial?" Brian seized the possible conversation starter out of this silence.

"Nah, Barts. I study dentistry." Roger grimaced but doesn't tack on what he thinks of that; Brian looks like the serious type about his studies.

"I'm doing my masters in astrophysics. We'd like me to get a doctorate."

"We?"

"Um, my family. My dad is real serious about my studies. He wants what's best for me. It'll be easier, I can get whatever job I want if I've got a doctorate."

'Rrrightie then. So no daddy issues or dependency issues with him.' Roger didn't touch that matter instead saying, "And you come from London? Still living with them or you got your own place?"

"Yeah well I'm from Hampton, grew up there but now I live in the city proper to commute to school. Which isn't really anything like the suburbs. Big city is so much more."

"Yeah, I really like it. So much happening, so much going on. I was born in Norfolk but I grew up in Cornwall and well, it's just not really anything like London. I don't think anywhere is."

Brian nodded, his halo of curls bobbing along. "So you like the big city? That's great. It was a bit of an adjustment for me. I really like to go out and see nature, look at the stars. And in the city with the light pollution- That's just impossible."

"But there is a planetarium isn't there? It's not the same thing but it's at least worth-"

"Oh yes of course. It's fine, nice shows of course but nothing compare to seeing them for real." It's clear that Brian is down-playing his own feelings to be diplomatic and polite.

Roger has no dog in this fight, "So complete shite then?"

Brian laughs and bumps shoulders with Rogers, "Yes. Yes it really is. It's so basic. Maybe if I was five, I wouldn't mind it but the information is so useless and the visuals so inferior to the actual night sky, I'm not sure I wouldn't be better off looking at plane lights moving across the sky."

"Right, right then. That's what I want to hear, I don't want watered down opinions. So London?" Roger pulled from his back pocket a half-squished back of smokes.

"Loud, and the noise never seems to end. Even when I'm in the library there are hundreds of souls scribbling and shuffling about. Can't ever be alone, can't ever have quiet. And yet! And yet, I think if I had stayed at home I'd have driven myself spare." He looks at Roger and makes a face. It's kind of negative and Roger would rather not be looked at that way, "Err, you really want to know?"

"Know what? If we're gonna be band mates, which I do reckon by that stellar performance I just gave," Brian lights up in delight at such modesty, he clearly finds Roger's personality a hoot. "Then yes really do tell me."

"I don't really like smoking. I have to put up with it most of the day but when I can get away- I can't stand the smell it's just so-" He makes a too much gesture.

Roger lowers his light and leaves a cigarette between his lips. "Realistically if we're gonna spend time together, a long time together, I'm gonna need to light up. But if you really want I won't. But -and hear me out- if we are gonna be in an enclosed space like a restaurant, it'd be worse if I smoked then than now. So if I smoke now -and I'll walk a step behind you-, and then I won't smoke where you can't get away from the smell and we can spend a long time together."

"Who says I want to spend a long time with you?" Brian says softly but he can't help the smile that's breaking out, how considerate. "That's really clever of you Rog."

"I'm a really clever guy," Roger says with a cocky grin. The nickname is nice too.

"I'm sure you are," Brian replies without teasing. "That'd be great, perfect really." Despite Brian being a good amount of inches taller than him, he still manages to look as though he is looking through his eyelashes at Roger.

"It's just common courtesy," Roger mumbles feeling himself blush a little at the look. "So you were telling me about staying at home would have driven you spare?"

"Oh, right thanks. I love my parents and it's nice to have all my clothes laundered and meals cooked, god knows I'm rubbish at it, but I-" Brian can't even find the words as he gestures passionately.

"Need your independence?"

"Exactly!"

"Yeah, I think it's nice to be away from the folks and even my little sister, because now that I live alone - well not alone-alone got flatmates- I can just do whatever I want, whenever I want. I mean I came to London for uni but the kind of opportunities here are nothing like back home." Roger returns the shoulder bump, "No bands like Smile. Doubt there were any guitarist like you. Certainly no guitars like that one."

"Her name is Red Special," He says reverently running his hand gently over her case.

For the next few blocks, Brian is completely consumed with talking about all the things his guitar can do and how it was built to do that. Roger is reasonably interested, having played guitar before the drums. It is also going to affect how the band's music sounds and what kind of songs can be created. More importantly than how interesting or relevant Roger finds it, it's obvious that it means a lot to Brian. He seems to light up from inside and laugh lines are evident. It's clear that much like with stars, music is his passion and this guitar is his baby.

As Roger had been told the deli is indeed relatively close. They enter as Brian continues his explanation and he stops dead to stare straight ahead. Roger looks around to see an average deli that's fairly clean, new and a little busy with mostly college students. Is it the smell? It clearly and strongly smells of smoked and cured meats. Exactly how hungry is Brian? "Did you have any lunch today?"

Brian looks very distracted, "Oh um well-," He finally looks back to Roger, "No."

Roger laughs as he guides them to the counter. He looks over the board to see basically only good things "I'll have a classic italian." Salami, ham capicola and belgioioso provolone all sound delicious and together are sure to be even better.

Brian looks more uncertain and undecided. "Um do you have tuna?"

The clerk and Roger look at Brian for moment. "No sir, only meats and the meats on the board."

Brian hesitates for a moment more before seemingly picking something at random. Something seems wrong but Roger isn't a mind reader and trusts that Brian will tell him if he wants to, Roger doesn't pry after having only met today. Instead he tries to start up a conversation, "I need to get a job."

"Oh? Do you? Or do you just need money?" Brian replies with a wry smile and seems to be coming back to himself.

"Of course I need money, who's life wouldn't be better if they had some more money? I can't imagine I'd be any worse off if a hundred pounds fell from the sky. And in order to get money, I need a job." They scout out somewhere to sit that is overlooking the busy street. The place is only half empty and they settle on a tiny wobbling table.

"Well, I'm tutoring in my matter for the moment. It's not terrible but it's a little difficult to get regular clients. I have to put up notices and then they have to call, I have to be home to get the calls. We have to figure out where we are gonna meet, I'd rather not have complete strangers in my flat and honestly it's not really big enough."

"Yeah and then you have to keep it clean."

"Oh yes, cleaning how terrible. Couldn't want to keep it clean just because -you know- I live there or anything. Keeping it clean, honestly Rog, what priorities." Brian teases Roger playfully.

Roger huffes playfully back, "I mean like tidy, obviously I'm not suggestion you should live in a pigsty but like got to make your bed and fold your clothes-" Roger can tell he's not making his case, every phrase making Brian's lips curl up more. "Shove off then." He jokes jostling him again.

"So tutoring is probably not for you."

"You can rent some of them private rooms at the library no?"

Brian shakes his head, "Rarely, it needs to be done so much in advance. No one books an appointment with me like a month early. You can probably find work as a clerk somewhere, loads of shops have help wanted signs in their windows."

Roger sighs dramatically and melts halfway down into his chair. "Yeah but at what cost? Because then I'd have to work as a clerk."

"Oh right, well if you want a job where you don't have to work it is more complicated." They laugh again.

Roger doesn't particularly think of himself as funny but meeting Brian and the whole audiation has him feeling hyper and bubbly. He feels like a shaken can of coke ready to exploded and fizz. His cheeks are tingling and the feeling of delight hasn't left since he heard how good Brian's guitar sounded with him. "Yeah well that too. I don't want a job that I hate. You know what they say, have a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life. As being a professional rockstar and drummer god isn't raking in big yet, I'll have to settle for second best. Being a clerk isn't exactly second best."

"That's what you want to do then? Not dentist?"

"'Course," Roger relipes as the server settles in front of them two beautiful plates with sandwiches and chips. The table is so small that the plates touch. "Cheers," He thanks the server and tucks in, "Mmmm, George was right about this place. Delicious." Even from the first bite Roger can tell. They've skimped a little on the meat at this cheap student price but the toasted bread and strongly flavored ingredients make up for it. He swallows his food before replying -he might not pick up his socks but his mother didn't raise a barn animal-, "Nah dentry is like a fall back plan right. God, I won't want to do it for the rest of my life but if I had a hobby that some evenings and every weekend I was jamming away, that won't be terrible," Roger consides. "Would you rather be an astrophysicist or a guitarist?"

"I get a choice, do I?" Brian says coily, he hasn't touched his sandwich only picking at the chips. For someone that hasn't eaten since breakfast he doesn't seem all that hungry, maybe he's feeling ill. "Well I suppose in a perfect world where I could get everything I want, I'd rather be a guitarist. But realistically most people don't make a living from it and I don't know - I like be on stage so far- but what are tours really like or concerts? Maybe the rockstar life isn't for me-" Roger scoffs. "I might prefer the -I'm only twenty-one I haven't gotten it all figured out- a quiet regular life. Nine-to-five. And maybe- maybe say we do become rockstars, would I want to keep playing until I'm forty? Fifty? Maybe I'd retire into a more traditional job. But yes, I would like to be a guitarist and I'd like to be a guitarist with you - playing by your side."

Roger has to stop scarfing down his meal for a moment and swallows down that last bite. Brian is looking at him with those hazel brown eyes and such sincerity. "Yeah, I'd like that too. So far so good and why mess with a good thing."

"As my dad likes to say: Don't fix it if it isn't broken."

They smile at each other and Roger gets the crazy urge to reach out across the table and link hands. Roger breaks eye contact and can feel his cheeks redding. He tries to change the subject to something less... surprisingly intense, "So did you have a giant breakfast or what?"

Brian doesn't seemed to have followed. "I eat a few pieces of toast with butter, why?"

"'Cause you've barely touched your food. It's really quite good. Very good price-quality."

"I don't know how much that's saying," Brian mumbles considering how little it cost. "Well you see-" Brian starts to hedge uncomfortably. "I'm actually vegetarian," Brian said as he opened up the sandwich and removed the thick slices of roast beef with a fork and put it on Roger's plate.

'Christ no wonder he's so skinny.' Roger felt concerned and a little pitying about Brian's now sad and half-empty sandwich that probably only tasted of bread. Still, he wasn't about to let the meat go to waste and accepts it. "Tuna!" He finally understood. "There are no alternatives here. I'm sorry I brought you here."

"You couldn't have known, I didn't say anything. I wasn't paying enough attention when you said it was a deli."

"Still I feel bad about it. Is there anything I can get you? I'll pay."

"That's okay. I'll be fine with just the chips."

"Just chips? That's not enough if that's basically all you've eaten today. You look enough like a fowl as is." Brian must have felt that last comment was not about the slenderness of his limbs but his rather pointy nose as he instinctively covered it up. Roger leaned over to lower his hand, "In that you only have a little bit of food to pick away at. You look fine. Hell, you're quite handsome."

Brian blushed, "Well we can't all be as pretty as you but thank you."

Many people told Roger he was pretty. He'd gotten it often growing up from mothers and since puberty he'd got it alot from girls. But to hear it from the talented, wonderful Brian it made him feel all tingly inside. It made him feel really proud even though it was really only good genetics.

Roger stood up causing the table to wobble. Something as little and insignificant as the table wobbling made Brian laugh again, his laughter was really a sound Roger was starting to love. "And here my mother had told me it was bad to keep my elbows on the table. Where you off to then? The loo?"

"As much as I'd love to blow this popsicle stand and take you somewhere else, I don't know any restaurants here and I'd like to finished my sandwich first. You'll have chips to keep you company through the suspense," Roger joked.

"Well as long as you aren't ditching me."

Roger turned around from where he was half out of his seat to look Brian dead in the eyes. "I would never. I have got a hell of a temper and I'm very opinionated, so there's definitely a chance you'll see me in a bad mood or even be the one to piss me off but you'll know it. I scream. I throw things. I let my displeasure me known. But I wouldn't ditch you."

"Just me?"

"Well sometimes birds are scary. But you're not just anyone, you're my guitarist." Brian was sure what he meant was the band's guitarist but it didn't stop him from feeling treasured and cared for. He twists in his chair to watch Roger's trek through the deli.

Roger stops at the counter and he can barely be heard over the chatter of the patrons and the street. "Do you have eggs?"

"Eggs? We have hard boiled eggs in with our deviled ham."

"Can you buy just the eggs?"

"You want to buy hard boiled eggs? Alright, whole or sliced."

"Sliced," Roger pulls out his wallet and the transaction is complete.

Brian turns quickly away. He sits without moving, staring at the tiled wall. Brian hadn't thought of it. Not having fish is common in delis but hard boiled eggs, most places got those. That was terribly thoughtful of Roger. Much like the smoking earlier. Roger could have relented to his request about cigarettes or been offended all together. Instead Roger had been clever and been well aware of what would realistically happen and then given Brian the choice.

Roger comes back triumphant with a small plate of sliced boiled eggs. He presents it as though a knight might a dragon's head. Although that might make Brian the princess in this scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Tim and actual singing. Then there is Freddie & Roger & Brian.


	2. Hear My Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singing happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even remotely beta'd

Unsurprisingly Tim does approve of the talented drummer Brian is besotted with. He's pretty sure if he didn't let Roger join the band, he'd have to get a new guitarist. Roger is... fine. The most talented drummer that he's ever meet in person but maybe not as good as he thinks he is. Roger has a tendency to speed up when he's tense and keyed up.

They decide, rather cleverly, to name the band Smile. They get this idea when Roger introduces himself. Smile is a proper word and not a name, easy to spell, only five letters. And 'Don't Forget to Smile,' is catchy and a excellent phrase that is positive and appropriate.

The actual surprise is Roger's high range. It's early in their rehearse room and Brian has yet to arrive. His falsetto, with his vocal training, is amazing. Tim have never met a man that could do that.

Brian shows up on time as usual, he'd never come early because he skipped a class. If Brian ever plays hooky, it must be a sign of the end times. Brian is wearing his regular nerd attire and his a jawbreaker mouthguard in.

Jawbreaker mouthguards are the easiest most reliable way to gag one's self. They were rarely if ever called gags as that word had negative connotations. Cloth or fabric such as bed sheets are used in a pinch but they aren't near as effective. Everyone carries a mouthguard on them at all times to prevent their soulmates songs from being disruptive when quiet is needed. While young child sings all the time, as soon as one matures they learn and understand not to do it during school or work hours as to minimize how disruptive they could be.

This was sometimes easier said than done when soulmates weren't in the same time zone. So, most often clipped to key chains, everyone has a gag that serves to keep quiet and order in settings, such as a lecture hall.

Tim has often seen Brian with his mouthguard. His soulmate sings a lot and not always at practical times such as when Brian is riding an otherwise silent bus. Tim nods politely to him and Brian hesitates to remove his mouthguard, waiting to see if another song will follow that one.

"Sorry, my soulmate sings a lot," He informs Roger, "And generally it's not just one song but a whole slew of them. But I think it's okay now. That wasn't a real song I think. I don't know if it had any words."

Roger shrugs unconcerned, "Yeah, my soulmate sings quite often too. I don't mind, gives me a good excuse to skip out of tons of lame things and boring dates."

"Don't you have a mouthguard?"

Roger gives Brian his shit-eating grin, "'Course but they don't know that. I say I've forgotten if I wanted to leave."

Brian and Tim can't help but to laugh, typical Roger.

Tim claps and starts to order about, "Speaking of harmonizing voices, Roger's got a really high range and I think it'd be wonderful with your voice Bri." Brian's nickname was like Roger's the uncreative shorting of his name pronounced Brye.

"Sure, I can only assume my soulmate's in a good place for some backtracks," Brian laughs.

"Perfect then, couldn't be a better time," Tim says setting them up in front of two mics.

The boys look at each other and start off with some various bars, singing neutral 'ohs' and 'ahs'. Tim was right their voices like their instruments which sound beautiful apart, are even more lovely together. And they are as in sync as two souls can be. Brian's lower, rich register blends with Roger's astonishingly high and piercing voice. Truly they fit each other so nicely.

It wasn't that day that they noticed they were soulmates, or any day after for they intentionally sing in harmony to be backing vocals.

\--  
Roger was eventually able to find a job as was Brian. Brian had already had a job as tutor but he was able to upgrade due to his diligent work ethic.

["I've gotten a job!"

"Don't you already have a job? Aren't you a tutor?"

"Yeah but now I'm a teacher!"

Roger blinks slowly. That sounds worse. Children and not just one at a time but a whole room of them. Brian is gushing and it's unlikely to be because of the increased paycheck. Brian is very much a 'it's wonderful to inspire and educate young minds' type. "Good for you. I'm sure you'll be a good teacher." He pauses until Brian is about to thank him for the compliment, "You'll make a sexy teacher. Just need to get you some sexy librarian glasses."

Brian's train of thought is derailed, "Librarian?"

Brian must be thinking of the old musty men at his university's library instead of the lovely, lonely ladies at Roger's. Roger puts his elbows on the table and squishes together his arms as though to foist up breast and show cleavage. In a coquettish tone Roger says, "Can I help you find something?"

"I- You'd think I'd look better with glasses," He lifts his hand to his face as though to lift his frames.

"Better than me, that's for sure," Roger bemoans as he sinks back down into his chair.

"You? You have glasses? I've never seen you wear them?"

Roger waves that way, "Hate them. I have a terrible face for glasses but gotta wear them for driving." He takes out from his book bag a glasses case and sure enough for a millisecond glasses are on Roger's nose before they are backed away again. Brian couldn't even tell what color they were. "Is this why don't like attending lectures, can't see what's on the board?"

Roger would rather - He'd rather knit doilies than argue about his academic choses with Brian again. His getting passing grades, he can do whatever he wants. "Oh yeah, you're ready. You'll make a good teacher."

Brian looks apologetic. He really does only want what's best for Roger. Roger must absolutely stop this from happening. "All you need if whatever Freddie thinks teacher-rock guitarist wear."

Brian's whole face screws up like he's been sucking on lemons.

"Then you'll be irresistible." Roger puts on his best simpering adolescent voice, "Oh Master* May, have I been misbehaving? Have I been bad? Do I need to be punished?"

Brian's face is a scarlet red and he keeps stammering without being able to start a sentence. "As sure as I am that Brian would love to spank you. We do actually have work to do."

[A/N: British people don't address their teachers by Mr / Ms but rather Master. At least that was my teachers experience, it could just have been a weird thing in the 80s and not the 60s. ]

Roger's job was not one as reliable as Brian's certainly one he found more entertaining and fulfilling. And it was Freddie. Freddie had dark hair and dark eyes with the most stunning and outrageous sense in fashion. Roger's new friend and unofficial Smile micro-manager. He attended most performances and even some practices. He always had an opinion about how they'd just down and how they could improve and in Freddie's mind there was always room for improvement. This aggravated Tim especially when he got the feedback directly after the show. Tim would feel fine or even better than fine after the cheerful crowd just for Freddie to roll in like an unwanted storm cloud.

Freddie didn't just have musical critiques, he also felt that he should join the band as lead vocalist and pianist and gave image critiques. Freddie was a big believer in image and felt they should present and dress themselves a certain way when on stage. Brian and Tim disagree thinking that if there music was good enough, that was all that mattered.

Roger was rather on Freddie's side and their shared job was actually in fact manning a clothing stall at Kensington. Freddie would attend car boot sales, estate sales and anything else he could find in order to hopefully pick things up cheap that could be resold for a profit.

They weren't terribly profitable but they did enjoy themselves. No boss to tell them how to work or behave, no enforced hours, no middle man stealing their wages. Most of the time it was just them hyped up on caffeine due to the early start bouncing in their chairs as they gossiped to each other.

That morning Freddie was -gasp- early! It normally would never have happened but the road outside of Freddie's flat was being removed with jackhammers and the horrifying noise made it impossible to say in the flat let alone in bed. Freddie could only hope it ended soon, this was an ungodly hour. The English language was truly excellent in this expression 'an ungodly hour' for indeed at this hour there were no gods and Freddie was abandoned by God to suffer on this mortal plane.

The only good was that at this hour they might have an older clientele they didn't normally have. That and Freddie could surprise Roger, if Roger was ever going to show up. It was always boring to man the stand alone and Freddie has already finished the crossword but for one word he didn't know.

He was now left with nothing to do until chaotic and blonde arrived. Freddie thought Roger should really be blonde, not his current dirty blonde, and bleach his hair. It would look very rock and roll and would look good know that he was growing it out. Roger, much like the rest of Smile, weren't too keen to take his advice. They couldn't see it yet but being fashionable was important to a personality contest like being a rock star. Being boring and dressing like some middle-aged man was not how one got anywhere.

Roger did eventually show up at half-eleven whistling an unfamiliar tune. "Oh, you are already here! Wonderful, any good sales this morning?" Roger seemed to be in a very good mood, smiling uncontrollable and seemingly glowing.

"Not much, just that badger wrap," Freddie said gesturing to the coat rack from which also hung their scarfs, belts and whatnots. Roger beamed as he nodded in comprehension. "You clearly have something to tell me, don't let me stop you."

"It's this new song! My soulmate sang it and it's amazing. I didn't get down of the lyrics but I really like it. I've never heard it and I don't know who it's by but we have to find it," Roger emptied out his pockets and showed Freddie a crumpled napkin with blobbed pen streaks. Roger's handwriting, normally large, wide and extremely legible is only a smear. "Do you know it? This is the tune." Roger starts to sing.

It's the middle of the a Tuesday morning and while Roger isn't belting loudly Freddie can't quite imagine this isn't inconvenient or at least annoying for his soulmate. The song is lovely even if Roger can't remember all of the words and simply hums certain parts. As soon as he's done Freddie asks, "Isn't it a little early to be bother your other half?"

"They started it," Roger retorts immediately. Before they can get into it, a sound starts in Roger's throat and he opens his mouth. Freddie can tell it isn't him singing because the first few notes fail to hit compare his normally talented singing. The same song they just were discussing comes out clearly. Freddie scribbles in their ledger the words as they come, they are coming at a slow enough rate that he can transcript them. There is a section after the third verse where the soulmates seems to hum the instrumental bit.

The slowly gently fades away and Roger's vocal chords are his own. "That was really something." Freddie agrees less over the moon than Roger. It's a good song but Freddie, like always, sees room for improvement. Roger settles down in the chair next to Freddie and they look over what has been written, filling in an and all missing parts. They then ripped out a clean page to have it neatly written down. Freddie then thinks it would be constructive to take a pencil instead of a pen and work together with Roger about how songs can be written. They annotate it and Freddie carefully doesn't sing any of it leaving all to Roger. Freddie's soulmate is very quiet, alive and once a month, every month they let him know they are still around but other than that compete radio silence. Freddie has decided to be a singer and thus he often sings for hours but he tries quite strictly not to do it during work hours.

Freddie picks up their annotated lyric sheet and folds it up into his coat. "I'll bring this to a record shop this evening, see if they've got it." Freddie tell him, "It's on my way back from Brian's, are you going to be there?"

"Nah, got that business at the lab this evening but you guys decide to swing out to the pub after I'll be at the one on Giltspur."

They spent the rest of that day chatting away and selling very little, only popping off for lunch for half an hour. Despite only having been recently acquainted, they both had the same fun-loving attitude that made them such fun friends.

It was easy enough to say goodbye in the afternoon as they knew they would be seeing each other soon, probably the very next day. Freddie, well dressed in his platforms, pressed skin tight trousers and long coat, headed the short walk to Brian's flat. It was convenient that Kensington market was in Kensington where Imperial was. Everything all in one place. Expect for Barts.

Brian's bedsit was as carefully tidy and clean as the last time Freddie saw it. This meant no shoes allowed and for Freddie to be able to take off his shoes he need to undo his fly or else he couldn't been down. Ah the price of fashion. As soon as Freddie was in socked feet, his knees felt instant relief.

"Oh Fred! You're almost early." Brian exclaimed for where he was in the kitchen. Something was simmering on the stovetop and it smelled good.

"I think it's called being on time. I wouldn't know of course but if you're going to feed me darling..." He removed his coat and placed in on the hat stand. Despite the whole flat being just one room there is a two-seater couch. Freddie would drape himself on it but his spot is taken by Brian's bested beloved, his guitar.

"If you're hungry, but it's so early. It's butternut squash soup. I don't think it's ready yet." Brian looks adorably concerned as he stops stirring the pot. Brian is wear an apron that is tiny on him. "Oh, oh!" Brian fretts some more and hurries over to liberate the couch of his guitar. "I've actually written something knew." He looks funny with his funky shaped guitar, apron, growing out curly hair, and slippered feet.

He plays and Freddie feels shaken to his core. That song... That song is familiar, very familiar, terribly familiar. "And? You wrote that? Today? This morning?"

"What? Yeah?" Brian looks concerned, "Is it not good?"

"No, no, it's good. It's very good. Me and Roger were discussing it."

"What?" It has yet to dawn on Brian the meaning of these words.

"Because.... Because he sang it... his soulmate... Roger's soulmate..."

Brian's eyes widen although he seems possible still in denial, "I- Really?" From his pocket Freddie pulls out the lyric sheet and give it to Brian. "I- You- Did you correct it?" He pauses and wrinkles his brown. "Wait this means-"and he bolts right out the door. Slippers, apron, guitar and all. He darts back in a moment later, "Where's Roger?"

"A lab and after that Giltspur."

Brian is ready to run back out but Freddie stops him. "Hold on, your wallet, your keys, maybe I should come with?" Freddie slips back on his coats and steps into his platforms.

"Yeah, yeah." As though he was a big baby, Freddie takes care of redressing him. Guides him into his shoes, wraps him up into his coat and closes up behind them as they head to Smithfield. Brian is twitching and looks ready to jump out of his skin.

"Relax. You know Roger. You like Roger. Roger is-" Nice and yet not nice. A good person with some douche tendencies. Roger, as much as Freddie is friends with him, isn't pure fluffy niceness.

"My complimentary opposite..." Brian says sighing clearly already in love. Freddie a little concerned that he won't get anything useful from those two for a while. They'll just stare uselessly into each others eyes and shit. "I'm always going to have to pick up his socks." Freddie's 'little concern' becomes absolute certainty. Roger, who's apartment Freddie has seen and knows that indeed socks need picking up, is still a grown man perfectly capable of making his own terrible decisions.

They arrive eventually and they decide by the very scientific method to flip a coin as to where to look for Roger. Roger probably did the bare minimum and then bailed. Heads is the pub and indeed there they see one bassist and one drummer sipping away at pints. From the way they are sitting only Tim sees them when they enter the room.

The pub is quiet and mostly empty. It's early, happy hour has probably only just started. Brian stops from across the room and starts to sing 'Fly Me to the Moon.' Brian's words come out of Roger's mouth and Tim steps back in shock. Roger isn't particularly alarmed by this, simply fishing in his bag for his jawbreaker mouthguard. Brian doesn't approach but rather increases his volume. Freddie knows exactly when Roger hears him. He whips his head around and stares at Brian, his voice continuing.

Brian winds down and approaches where they are sitting, he places the annotated lyric sheet on the grimmy pub table. "Freddie told me you knew my song."

Roger nods helplessly. His friend, his best friend is... He still, like when Brian was told, in a little bit of denial. Roger opens his lush mouth and sings The Best is Yet to Come. And his words automatically come out of Brian's throat. There's a second more of indecision before they embrace passionately.

"I'm so happy it's you. You're so wonderful, you're everything, I-" Brian tries to make himself clear but they are both overcome by emotions. It chokes his words and tears are welling in both of their eyes.

"Exactly how insufferable do you think they are going to be?" Tim says quietly as he takes a large gulp of beer.

"When is Roger not insufferable?" Freddie teases back.

"Brian not much better. What a bloody perfectionist."

Roger leans up to kiss Brian, to kiss his soulmate, their first kiss when Brian exclaims. "I forgot my soup on the stove!"

~Burnt butter squash soup and soulmates are to be had. ~


End file.
